Practicing Backstitch

I feel like my heart constantly flips,

From being torn to being stitched.

My feelings dart and drag from joy to pain,

While the shifting cycles remain unexplained.

My heart numbs and throbs, then bursts with light,

Switching back to black, then gliding to bright.

Back and forth my chest tightens then eases,

But it comes and goes, it swells, it seizes.

The sadness lingers but predictably, eventually fades,

And the happiness comes back but it never stays.

But after every time a new rip runs unchecked,

Love is rekindled, darned, and solidly bedecked.

Because my heart is not as fragile as it could be,

It is covered and braced by all of its seams.

For with every break, the stronger it grows,

And with every stitch, the stronger it glows.

My heart will always be mine and I’ll keep it sewn,

Protecting it, stitching it, never leaving it wholly alone.

For I will always have this disease, but I will keep going,

I will keep hurting, but I will always keep sewing.

And I will never be fixed, but I was never bent nor broken,

This enduring heart that I’ve tended is an admirable token.

Because this back and forth will never depart,

I will forever have scars and sutures adorning my heart.

And for as long as I live and for as long as I’m able,

I’ll mend and accept that life is wondrous yet seldom stable.

I feel like my heart constantly flips,

From being torn to being stitched.